The Arbitrary Mask-Wearing of Pandemic TV
Tuesday nights are for three things and three things only: This Is Us, sweatpants, and chamomile tea. This week’s installment? Season 5 Episode 5. For those of you with better things to do than cry over Milo Ventimiglia, we’re nearing autumn in L.A. (or some version of it within the multi-verse of pandemic TV).
In typical This Is Us fashion, a tear-jerker of an episode awaits. Kate Pearson is moments from eviscerating the abusive boyfriend haunting her teenaged past. Queue the golden hour lighting, a road trip down California coasts, and of course, Kate’s signature floral revenge dress. Years of trauma simmer beneath a southwestern sunset as she approaches (ex) Marc’s new haunt, the storefront of a run-down record store.
This is supposed to be Kate’s climactic moment of closure. A powerful ode to victims of emotional abuse both on and off our TV screens. But while actress Chrissy Metz lays her soul bare on the streets of San Diego, all I can think about is the mask that dangles from her hands as she violates CDC guidelines to yell at this veritable stranger, an ex 20 years in the rearview.
Unsurprisingly, pandemic TV occupies a lawless space in the broadcasting world, where mask-wearing applies only to background characters, and “thanks for quarantining beforehand” excuses every COVID faux pas.
To its credit, This Is Us is one of the less offensive programs currently airing. Beloved Philly councilman Randall Pearson regularly distributes masks and sanitizer to the homeless. The less beloved Kevin Pearson haphazardly disinfects himself before each interaction with his pregnant fiancé. Beth, Deja, and the rest of the Pearson clan at least pretend to operate within “social bubbles,” despite the growing number of side-characters taking up space in these tight-knit communities. Pandemic media watchdog E-News gives the drama a solid 9/10 in their adherence to COVID safety measures.
Though a 9 seems generous, NBC’s favorite tearjerker is light years ahead of the other COVID nightmares polluting our screens. Fox’s 9-1-1, for example, reads like a how-to for hot-spot breeding. First responders, obviously, are far too cool for N95 masks (or really, any masks at all). And while the occasional unmasked crisis caller seems reasonable, a dispatch office full of unmasked federal employees does not. Somehow, despite neither distancing nor vaccines, everyone remains miraculously virus-free in this season-long game of COVID-roulette.
On some level, it’s refreshing to watch TV programming that so closely mirrors COVID's apathy in the real-world. As of early March, both Texas and Mississippi have formally put an end to their mask-wearing mandates. Residents of Boise, Idaho, were filmed burning surgical masks during a rally at the steps of their capitol building last week. TV mask aversion becomes almost political when viewed in tandem with the anti-masking movements dominating national news.
And though I’m 99% sure the Pearsons aren’t secretly anti-maskers, I’m looking forward to the day where I can get through a full episode of This Is Us without wanting to scream at the maskless figures on my screen.
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